


Dreaming in Color

by sister_wolf



Series: Fractal Geometry [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bats as Rogues, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-06
Updated: 2005-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is a Rogue.  Bart is impulsive.  And then there's a naked day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming in Color

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas, [](http://girl-starfish.livejournal.com/profile)[**girl_starfish**](http://girl-starfish.livejournal.com/) and [](http://raveninthewind.livejournal.com/profile)[**raveninthewind**](http://raveninthewind.livejournal.com/)!

Lying on the couch wearing nothing but a thin pair of old boxers, Tim sprawled so that the breeze from the oscillating fan would hit as much of his sweaty skin as possible. The scratchy material of the old couch was uncomfortable against his bare skin, but he was feeling way too lethargic to move. Keystone in July was miserable. Over a week of ninety-degree weather, so far, and not a trace of wind to stir the muggy air.

Dick and Babs had gone out earlier to meet with someone that Babs would only describe as 'a new business contact.' Tim grimaced, irritated that they still treated him like a kid. Sure, he was the youngest of the three, but they'd all agreed that it was an equal partnership. Even after he turned sixteen, though, it always seemed to end up being the Dick-n-Babs show, with Tim tagging along as the eternal sidekick.

Grumbling under his breath, Tim rolled off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. He grabbed a cherry popsicle from the freezer, pausing for a few moments to luxuriate in the blast of frigid air. He hated the hot, sticky Midwestern summers. Summer in Gotham never seemed this bad. Of course, it definitely helped that his parents' house had central air conditioning. Right now, the three of them couldn't even afford an apartment with a working air conditioner.

Dick kept promising that the next job they pulled would be the big one, the one that put them on the map with the Rogues, but so far all they'd managed was enough money to pay for Babs' computer gear and a few toys for Tim. Flexing his hand, Tim watched the silvery filaments twist and flow under the surface of his skin, and then fade away again, perfectly hidden. Okay, a few _really cool_ toys.

A muted beep announced that someone had opened the door to their end of the hallway. Tim wandered over to the monitors to check it out-- Dick and Babs, back from their meeting. Dick looked up at the hidden camera and waved cheerfully. It looked like things had gone well.

There was a clatter of keys unlocking the deadbolts. Dick flung open the apartment door, calling loudly, "Timmy, we're ho-ooooome!"

Tim slouched against the kitchen archway, absently licking his popsicle. "I refuse to be Lucy. If anyone should be Lucy, it's Babs. She's got the right hair for it."

"No way, shorty." Babs kicked off her high heels, aiming them unerringly for the corner by the front closet. "Dick works better as the charming airhead, anyway."

"Hey, I resemble that remark!" Dick protested, picking Babs up off her feet and twirling her around the living room. "We have good news, Timmy-my-boy-- oof!" Babs elbowed him in the side, twisting out of his arms and gracefully landing on her feet. Groaning theatrically, Dick clutched at his stomach. "You're a cruel woman, Barbara Gordon."

"Don't you forget it, hotshot." Sitting languidly on the couch, Babs pulled her long, red hair into a messy knot at the back of her neck and fanned herself lazily. "I'll be so glad to move out of this dump." Hypnotized, Tim watched a drop of sweat slide down the side of her neck and disappear into the valley between her breasts. He caught himself fantasizing about chasing the drop with his tongue and tried hard not to blush.

"So. Good news?" Tim prompted, hoping that Babs hadn't noticed him staring.

"Yep. We met with a new contact today--"

"Captain Cold," Dick interrupted, plopping down on the couch next to Babs.

"Captain Cold," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "Man's been around forever, you'd think he'd have come up with a better codename by now."

"Anyway, the point is--"

"The point is," Babs said, raising her voice slightly, "we met with Captain Cold and the Weather Wizard, and we've got ourselves a job."

"Good news," Tim said, nodding. Captain Cold was the unofficial leader of the Rogues, as much as a group that disorganized could be said to have a leader, and Weather Wizard was probably one of the strongest Rogues for sheer fire-power. Having those two as contacts could help them out a great deal.

"We hit the big leagues! We're gonna be Rogues!" Dick boasted. "Oh, c'mon, kid, try to at least _look_ excited."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "What? This _is_ my excited face."

Dick stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. Narrowing his eyes, Tim chomped off the end of his now-dripping popsicle, crunching it loudly between his teeth.

Heaving a loud sigh, Babs smacked Dick across the back of his head. Over his indignant "hey!", she said, "Anyway, that's not the only piece of good news. According to Weather Wizard, it's going to start raining in Keystone right about... now." She grinned. "Little present from our new associate."

The curtains, which had been hanging limply in the muggy air, stirred suddenly, pushed by a cool breeze that smelled of spring and growing things. Tim crossed to the window and inhaled deeply, listening as the rain began pattering against the fire escape. God, it felt better already.

He glanced back into the living room, seeing Babs and Dick curled up together on the couch, kissing. Tim figured they could use a little couple time, plus he definitely did _not_ need to overhear them having sex again this week. "I'm going up to the roof," he said, sliding the window open. Not looking up, Dick waved a hand in his general direction.

Halfway up the rickety iron stairs, it occurred to him that it might have been a good idea to grab some actual clothes before leaving. Tim hesitated, weighing his options: hang out on the rooftop in soaking wet boxers, or brave the probable couch sex in order to grab shorts out of his room.

No contest. Tim shrugged and continued up the fire escape. There was an old couch tucked in between three huge metal vents up on the roof, and someone (probably whoever had put the couch up there in the first place) had rigged a makeshift roof over it with a couple sheets of plywood. Not the Ritz-Carlton, but he'd stay reasonably dry. It wasn't like he'd run into anyone else hanging out on a fifth-story roof in a thunderstorm, anyway.

From the roof, he could usually see all the way to the grain mills by the river, but today he couldn't see much beyond the old Gold Lightning Beer sign three blocks away. Tim closed his eyes and tilted his head back, feeling the rain soak through his hair and slide coolly down the back of his neck. He'd probably be chilly in a few minutes, but right now it felt like heaven.

"Hi." The voice came out of nowhere. Tim spun around, automatically falling into a defensive stance. Who the hell-- oh, just a kid.

A kid in a red and white unitard and big red goggles, with goofy little gold wings coming off the sides of his head... This could be a problem. It was the Flash's little sidekick, whatshisname.

"Hi," Tim said, smiling and trying to look relaxed while mentally mapping out escape routes. He glanced around unobtrusively, trying to figure out if the Flash was anywhere nearby. He needed to warn Babs and Dick that they'd been compromised. And how the hell had the Flashes found them, anyway? They hadn't even pulled a job since Kord Industries three weeks ago, and there shouldn't have been any evidence that they were involved. He could figure that out later. First priority: he needed to lead the kid _away_ from Dick and Babs to give them enough time to escape.

"Are we having a naked day today?" the kid asked, cocking his head to the side and looking innocently inquisitive.

Tim blinked, his racing thoughts grinding to a halt. "What?"

"A naked day." There was a blur of movement, and suddenly the mini-Flash was dressed only in white boxer-briefs, spreading his hands out as if to say "ta-da!" He was still wearing the red goggles, Tim noticed, which really just made it even weirder.

"No, I was just-- Listen, you can't just come up here and take your clothes off."

"Why not?" He sounded honestly curious. "You did."

Tim shook his head, blinking rain out of his eyes. "That's different."

"I don't see how." The mini-Flash jittered in place for a moment, and then darted forward to grab Tim's right hand and shake it before he could react. "I'm Impulse. Hi."

So apparently the mini-Flash wasn't there to capture them after all, he just liked running around on rooftops in thunderstorms. Tim could work with that. "Um, hi. I'm Alvin. Alvin Draper," Tim said with his 'Alvin Draper' smile, which turned into more of a grimace as he tried unsuccessfully to tug his hand back.

Impulse hung onto his hand doggedly, continuing to shake it. Almost too quickly for Tim to understand, he said, "NicetomeetyouAlvin."

"Yeah, likewise," Tim muttered, still trying to get his hand back.

Impulse gave him a huge smile, holding his hand for a second more before releasing it. He said something way too quickly for Tim to catch and backed away a few steps, staring at Tim and grinning, before disappearing with a gust of wind that blew rain straight into Tim's face.

Well. That was random, Tim thought, wiping rain out of his eyes. It had cooled off significantly in the last few minutes, and he was soaked to the skin and starting to shiver. Hugging himself for warmth, Tim sat huddled in a corner of the couch, which was mostly dry in its sheltered spot between the vents.

He should probably go inside, but that meant risking interrupting Babs and Dick having couch sex. No way, not after the last time. It wasn't that he was especially prudish-- well, okay, yeah, he was kind of a prude. That wasn't the real problem, though.

Normally he could ignore any inappropriate feelings toward his partners, but catching them together like that-- the sight of all that bare skin, Babs' long legs wrapped around Dick's waist, the muscles flexing in his back and arms, the way they kissed as they moved together so slowly... Blushing furiously, Tim tried not to think about it anymore.

He felt a newly familiar gust of wind and rain against his face, and looked up slowly, blinking rain out of his eyes again. Impulse, now wearing big clunky boots in addition to his boxer briefs and goggles, smiled and waved cheerfully. "I forgot to ask. Is it Al or Vin?"

"What?"

"Your nickname. K-- uh, Superboy-- calls me Imp," he said, casually sitting down on the couch and depositing a large picnic basket on the floor between them. "You like mustard? 'Cause I was gonna grab the mayo, but Jo-- I mean, my grandma, said you can't take mayo on picnics 'cause of food poisoning and stuff."

With an effort, Tim forced himself not to say 'what' again. "A picnic?"

"Yeah," Impulse said, looking at him with wide golden eyes and an infectious grin. "This is the perfect spot for a picnic. You can see the thunderstorm and stuff but it's dry under here and hey! I brought a blanket!" A blur of motion, and suddenly a large plaid quilt draped both of them from shoulders to toes.

Tim sneezed from the sudden, overpowering odor of cedar and mothballs. "You don't even know me," he pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Well, it _is_ true that we just met, but Max always said you should try to make new friends whenever you can." Impulse frowned for a moment, then flipped open the picnic basket and devoured, in rapid succession, an apple, a Snickers bar, and half a bag of potato chips. He mumbled around a mouthful of chips, "You want a sandwich?"

"Sure." Accepting half of a messy, overstuffed turkey sandwich, Tim had the feeling that he'd lost control of the situation. But it wasn't like it was worth the trouble of trying to shoo Impulse away (if that was even possible), and besides, he'd spotted donuts in the depths of the picnic basket.

"So, are you from Keystone originally?" Impulse asked. Tim eyed him narrowly, but the thought that Impulse might be trying to get Tim to incriminate himself seemed ridiculous. He really didn't appear to be capable of keeping a thought in his head for more than five seconds at a time.

"No, I'm from the East Coast. Bludhaven." Close enough to Gotham that he could fake being from there convincingly.

"Cool. I'm from Alabama. Well, sort of. That's where I was from most recently. It's alittlecomplicated." Impulse's shoulders slumped. "Max was taking care of me, but he disappeared, and now I might never see him again."

"What happened?"

"He was taken over by the evil spirit of an insane supervillain and lost in time." Impulse ducked his head and sighed, pulling the quilt up higher so that all that was visible over the top of it was two big golden eyes covered by silly red goggles, and a fluff of brown hair. "Superhero stuff. It gets weird sometimes."

Tim had actually forgotten, for a moment, that he was talking to one of the 'good guys.' He frowned, carefully folding the paper towel that had been wrapped around his sandwich. He couldn't afford to let himself lose perspective like that.

"So now I live here with my grandparents. Well, they're not really my grandparents, but... it's complicated. Anyway. So how about you?"

"Not much to tell. I'm an orphan, and I live with my cousin and his girlfriend." All true, except for the part about Dick being his cousin. Which, considering the thoughts he'd occasionally had about Dick? It was really a good thing that they weren't actually blood relatives.

"I'm sorry. My dad's dead-- I never knew him-- but I can't imagine losing my mom too. Even though I might never see her again 'cause she's in the 30th century, at least I know she's there." Impulse added, completely matter-of-fact, "And I might get to see her if I go time traveling again."

Considering that the thunderstorm outside their little shelter had been created by a criminal with a magic wand, Tim guessed that time travel shouldn't seem all _that_ unbelievable. "Time travel, huh? Sounds kind of cool, I guess."

"Time travel is cool, but space travel-- that's _really_ cool." At Tim's skeptical look, Impulse protested, "I'm serious! I've been in space tons of times. Well, two or three anyway. We went to an alien planet and played baseball once; that was really fun."

"Aliens play baseball?" Tim couldn't quite tell if Impulse was joking.

"Sure! They were really good, too. Killer curveballs."

"You're kidding."

"No, seriously!" Impulse grinned at him. "Do you play baseball?"

"Not really." Impulse looked disappointed. Feeling obscurely guilty without knowing why, Tim offered, "I'm not really much of a team sports person. I like rock climbing, martial arts and, uh... gymnastics." Impulse definitely did not need to know about the high-wire acrobatics, cat burglary, and computer hacking portions of his training.

"Rock climbing sounds like fun. I run up the sides of buildings, but I guess it's probably not the same." Tim thought about the thrill of rappelling down the side of a 30-story building at night and decided that it was too bad that Impulse was a good guy, because he'd probably enjoy it a lot.

"You could come with me sometime. Rock climbing," Tim said before he could stop himself. He snapped his mouth closed, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. Inviting a superhero along while he showed off one of the skills he used in his job, which was, by the way, _stealing_ things? He was obviously going insane.

"That would be awesome." Smiling, Impulse leaned over and gave Tim a sudden and entirely unexpected hug. Tim tried not to stiffen up too much. He wasn't really much of a hugger, even after spending a year and a half with Dick, who apparently couldn't go more than a couple of days without hugging the people he cared about.

"I'm really happy I met you," Impulse said, his voice slightly muffled by Tim's shoulder. "I mean, I totally could have missed meeting you and that would have sucked. I was just practicing running up and down the sides of buildings, and I was thinking about going home 'cause I was getting hungry, and then I got to the top of this one and thereyouwereandIlikeyouawholelot."

Tim nodded. "And I, uh, I like you too. So I guess it was a good coincidence. Um." He waited, but Impulse didn't seem to be in any hurry to stop hugging him. Tim patted him on the shoulder uncomfortably and tried to ease away.

"Al?"

There was half a beat of silence before Tim remembered who 'Al' was. "Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Um."

Impulse leaned back and looked up at him, eyes widened earnestly. "I know this probably seems a little sudden to you, but I've had, um, severalhoursofsubjectivetime to think about it, and I'd really, really like to kiss you. Okay?"

Tim licked his lips nervously, trying to think, and had his train of thought immediately thrown off track by the way that Impulse's eyes followed the movement. "Um," he said again, mentally flailing for any sort of coherent response.

The number of people he'd kissed could be easily counted on the fingers of one hand, and until today they'd all been female. Some-- okay, many-- of Tim's thoughts about Dick had made him suspect that he might be something other than strictly heterosexual (though considering his fantasies about Babs, he was pretty damned sure he wasn't gay, either), but this was the first opportunity he'd actually had to test that theory. And Impulse obviously wanted to kiss him, so-- why not. He'd rather know this about himself _now_ than have it come up in some inconvenient way at a later date. "Okay," Tim said.

"Really?" Tim had expected to be bowled over, but instead the first touch was tentative, Impulse's hand (surprisingly big, considering he was shorter than _Tim_ ) cupping the side of his face as Impulse leaned in to kiss him. Warm, soft lips moved gently against his, catching Tim's lower lip and tugging a little before releasing. Impulse leaned back a little and asked, "That okay?" Tim nodded. Smiling, Impulse leaned in to kiss him again.

The hand that had been on the side of Tim's face slid to the back of his neck, and Impulse's other hand slipped around to the small of his back, tugging him against Impulse's warm and slightly vibrating body. It was oddly like leaning against a dryer. Tim shivered and pressed himself closer to the heat-- he was cold everywhere he wasn't touching Impulse.

Impulse kissed fast, then slow, then fast again, as if he were speeding up without noticing it and then deliberately slowing himself down, over and over. Tentatively, Tim ran his hands up and down the smooth skin of Impulse's back and shoulders. Surprisingly, Impulse kissed like someone with experience-- well, more experience than Tim, anyway. And it didn't seem to matter to Tim's body that the person who was kissing him was male.

 _Well, I guess that proves that theory,_ Tim thought, fully intending to stop before things got too involved. He started to try to pull himself away, but Impulse made a small, protesting noise at the back of his throat and pressed closer. Thinking hazily, _I should really stop this now,_ Tim instead found himself lying back on the couch with Impulse's body a warm, shivering weight on top of him. Without anything resembling conscious thought, Tim pulled the quilt up so that it covered the two of them, creating a warm, semi-dark cave. Impulse was hard, pressing against Tim's stomach-- they were both hard, rubbing against each other, and somehow Tim couldn't quite make himself stop kissing Impulse.

Impulse vibrated harder for a moment, shocking a moan out of Tim. He broke the kiss long enough to smile down at Tim, whispering, "You like that?" Tim swallowed hard and nodded, closing his eyes as Impulse cupped a hand over his hard dick. He wasn't quite ready for this-- he hadn't planned on going this far at all, but Impulse's hand was sliding inside his waistband, and maybe Tim still could have made himself stop things at that point, but then Impulse's thumb swiped over the head of Tim's dick, and he made a high, embarrassing noise and just held on.

The side of Impulse's neck tasted like skin and rain, and a little bit like the way he imagined electricity would taste, if it had a taste. Impulse curved his hand around Tim's dick and started vibrating it, sliding his hand up and down, varying the speed of the vibrations until Tim was left helplessly gasping from the waves of almost excruciating pleasure. Tim buried his face in Impulse's shoulder, mouthing the skin, fighting the instinct to bite down as the feelings built up and up until finally, groaning and shuddering hard, he came into Impulse's cupped palm.

Orgasm was almost a relief from the overload of stimulation. Tim sagged into the couch, panting, trying to convince himself that he was shaking because of residual vibrations, not... anything else. Impulse hummed at the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around Tim and leaving gentle, random kisses on his face and hair.

After a few minutes, Tim loosened his arms, pulling away a little. Impulse was still hard-- or maybe he was hard _again_ (Tim had pretty much lost track of things for a while back there)-- and Tim had no idea of the proper etiquette in this kind of situation. "Um."

He could feel Impulse smiling against the side of his neck. "Hey."

"So, um..." and Tim was spared possibly the third most awkward conversation of his life by the sound of the roof access door creaking open and Dick calling his name. Impulse disappeared in a blur of motion and the faint feeling of something pressing into Tim's hand.

Dick appeared around the side of the vent. "Hey, there you are. I figured this was where you disappeared to."

The quilt was gone. Tim tried very hard not to blush. At least his boxers were still on. Sticky and disgusting, yes, but still decent. "I figured you two needed your privacy. And it was pretty comfy up here."

Looking dubious, Dick said, "Comfy? I think squirrels nest in that couch, freakboy. Anyway, Babs wants to go out to dinner to celebrate. You coming?"

Tim suppressed a slightly hysterical urge to answer, _no, but if you'd opened the door a few minutes earlier it'd be a different story._ "Sure, just let me take a quick shower," he said, standing up and attempting to straighten his boxers.

Dick grinned and ruffled Tim's wet hair. "Probably a good idea, drowned rat boy."

Giving Dick the finger, Tim dodged another attempt to mess with his hair. "Give me fifteen minutes."

Safely inside his room, Tim opened his left hand, finding a damp and crumpled piece of paper with something written on it.

A phone number.

Tim flattened the scrap of paper out on his desk, staring at it thoughtfully. He had a superhero's phone number. He could think of several people, off-hand, who would pay a great deal of money for that information, but... he kind of liked Impulse.

And besides, he owed him one.

Whistling, Tim slung his disgusting boxers into the laundry hamper and headed for the shower. He'd call the number in a few days.

Well, okay. Maybe tomorrow.


End file.
